


In the Shadow of the Smuggler's Moon

by Richard_cypher



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen, sad and adorable Anakin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-10-04 23:58:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10292840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Richard_cypher/pseuds/Richard_cypher
Summary: On a routine Mission to Pantora , a young Obi-wan Kenobi is sold into slavery and shipped off to Nar Shaddaa to serve Grakkus the Hutt, collector of Jedi artifacts. But along the way he comes across a four-year-old slave named Anakin Skywalker, recently separated from his mother and desperately alone. Obi-wan muses Qui-gon would be proud - he's picked up a pathetic life form of his very own.





	1. Premonitions

**Chapter 1:**

**Premonitions**

Nineteen year old Obi-wan Kenobi sat on one of the meditation mats in the living area of him and his Masters shared quarters. Legs folded, back straight and hands resting on his knees, he was attempting- and failing terribly- to meditate. Nothing he did seemed to help his meditation along. The burn on his thigh kept twinging and itching at the worst times, the early evening sun managed to shine right in his eyes no matter where he dragged the mat, and every single time he managed to focus his mind, an errant thought would pop up and distract him. But still, he persisted.

 

After all, it _was_ what a Jedi did in his spare time. Proper meditation, as he’d been taught, was fundamental to maintaining one’s inner balance; and balance was the key to both accessing and manipulating the Force around you. A key that young Obi-wan just didn’t possess today – hence the unusual before-dinner meditation session.

 

His morning sparring with Master Qui-gon had gone smoothly – until it hadn’t. Half way through their session, Obi-wan had gotten… _distracted_ … by the sight of his fellow padawan learner, Siri Tachi, wearing a _very_ formfitting, _very_ revealing sleeveless tunic while moving through her Form IV katas. While he was busy ogling, his Master had unsuspectingly landed a blow he hadn’t been able to stop in time. A burn to the thigh, and a trip to the Halls of Healing later earned him an awkward, reproachful lecture on staying “in the here and now” and “pleasures of the flesh,” as well as an extra two hour meditation session to reflect on his actions.

 

_She had to have worn that on purpose_. The thought popped up unwarranted, ruining his attempts to clear his mind once again. _Just to mess with me._ Logically, he knew this was probably not the case – plenty of female Jedi wore training tunics in that style – but he was just so mortified to have been caught staring at her in the middle of a busy training room.

 

Obi-wan’s cheeks reddened. Rearranging his legs on the mat, he tried once again to focus and clear his mind. As he had been instructed countless times, he took in a slow deep breath. Drawing the Force in around him, he managed to examine and release his each of his emotions, one by one, into the current of energy around him. His frustration towards his meditation, and embarrassment over the incident with Siri melted away with practiced ease. Having finally completed the first steps, he let his mind go adrift…

 

Even the Force seemed to be unbalanced today, as Obi-wan felt himself coming back into his body much sooner than he expected. He frowned. _That was unusual_ … Frustrated that his attempts at meditation had been anything but refreshing, he opened his eyes and rolled his stiff shoulders. He frowned as he felt one of his notorious “bad feelings” washing over him.

 

Qui-gon often teased him about his “bad feelings,” claiming that his Padawan was so overwhelmingly pessimistic that it sometimes felt the need to exude through his pores (this coming from someone Obi-wan thought was nauseatingly hopeful about everything and everyone he encountered). But every now and then, Obi-wan’s “feelings” proved to be credible premonitions.

 

From his position on the floor, Obi-wan inspected the room with a critical eye, but nothing seemed to jump at out at him as suspicious. He glanced at the chrono on the wall and sighed. Seeing as he hadn’t spent very much time meditating, cooking dinner would probably assuage his Master. Perhaps it would distract him from this nagging feeling that something was wrong.

 

He picked himself up off the floor and straightened his robes before walking into the kitchen at the other end of the room. Opening the refrigeration unit, he studied its contents for a moment before deciding on Nuna and Rodian pepper soup. He made quick work of assembling and preparing the ingredients, and soon had them simmering away in a pot.

 

It was in the midst of slicing a loaf of Qui-gon’s favorite sweet bread that his Master entered through the doorway of their quarters, two datapads in hand.

 

Upon entering the apartment, Qui-gon sniffed the air curiously. “Dinner? You’ve been busy. And look, Nabooian sweet bread,” he teased. “I’m getting the distinct impression you didn’t meditate like I told you to.”

 

Obi-wan shrugged and turned around to face his Master, placing the bread on the table. “I have a bad feeling,” he said as explanation.

 

Qui-gon nodded, setting the datapads on the kitchen table. “Do you think it’s something serious or just a case of the pessimism-sweats?”

 

He rolled his eyes before turning around to stir the soup. “I don’t know yet. It’s not very concrete yet. I figured I’d meditate again in my room after dinner.”

 

“There won’t be any time for that, I’m afraid. I just got back from the Council chambers. We leave at 21:00 for Pantora.” The older man pulled up a chair and helped himself to a slice of the sweet bread.

 

Obi-wan tasted the soup with a spoon before turning off the heat. He walked over to the cupboard and pulled out bowls and spoons, before setting the table. “So soon? We’ve only been back two days.”

 

“With the political climate descending into chaos the way it is, I expect we’ll be spending much less time on Coruscant than we have in the past,” he said gravely. “The Pantoran government wants our assistance in negotiating mining rights between them and Orto Plutonia. It should be cut and dry, but it seems there are other interests at play as well.” He gestured at the datapads on the table. “There’s a dossier for you to go over before we leave.”

 

“Yes, Master.”

 

They ate in comfortable silence, Obi-wan pouring over the datapad on their assignment, and Qui-gon studying what Obi-wan suspected to be one of the man’s beloved holo-dramas.

 

It was only a few hours later that Obi-wan found himself standing on a landing pad with his Master just outside of the Senate District staring at a dilapidated looking Starship class Corellian Runabout L46 with the words _The Ta’veren_ sloppily painted on the hull. The Force roiled uncertainly.

 

IIIIIIIIIIIII

 

Obi-wan’s eyes snapped open as his earlier ‘bad feeling’ exploded into a warning from the Force of imminent danger. He sat up from the bunk he had been sleeping in. He studied the cabin around him, frantically looking for the source of danger.

 

The cramped cabin he and his Master were sharing onboard _The_ _Ta’veren_ was empty except for him. Qui-gon’s sleeping couch was still folded up into the wall, and his pack lay undisturbed in the corner of the room. Stretching out into the Force he sensed his Master on the bridge. Obi-wan scratched his neck and glanced at the chrono on the wall; the ship had only been in hyperspace for 6 hours. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up– the low pitched _hummm_ of the hyperdrive was missing. _Strange…_ he thought. Pantora, their destination, was still a few days out.

 

Frowning, he dressed quickly, attached his belt, and stuffed his feet into his boots siting at the end of the sleepcouch. When he palmed the door to the tiny compartment, he was surprised to see that the darkened hall was entirely empty. Most of the crew had apparently gone to bed for the night.

 

There seemed to be nothing outwardly wrong here either, but the warning of danger continued to pulse in the back of his head. He tugged at the bond he shared with Qui-gon. _‘Why are we out of hyperspace, Master?’_

 

_‘I don’t know, Padawan. The captain is trying to figure that out now. They think the hyperdrive malfunctioned.’_

 

‘I sense something is wrong. Very wrong...’

 

_'Agreed. Stay alert.’_

 

He quickly went through the schematics of the ship he’d memorized upon boarding in his head, before turning left towards the Bridge at a fast trot. Letting his body run on autopilot, Obi-wan focused his mind on the warning in the Force. The closer he got to the bridge, the more the warning intensified. Something was about to go terribly wrong, but he couldn’t seem to gleam anything from the Force as to what the danger was. Saboteur on the ship? _Unlikely. Master Qui-gon and I are the only ones on the ship who aren’t part of the crew. Besides, no logical motive… Maybe this bucket of bolts is finally coming apart at the seams?_ He grunted. _Too simple. Whatever it is, it’s more than shoddy engineering._ Racking his brain, he couldn’t even remember any of his premonitions that had been as severe as this.

 

Without warning, something struck the starboard side of the ship, sending him careening into wall and onto the ground. _What in the seven hells was that!?_ After a brief delay, the ship’s emergency claxons came to life.

 

Covering his ears to block out the angry screeching noise, Obi-wan managed to fish through his belt for his comlink and immediately signaled his Master. “What happened!?” he shouted over the din.

 

 Holding the com up to his ear, he managed to make out his Master’s response. “Pirates. They’ve struck the ship and disabled the engines. Are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine,” he voiced. “Pirates, this far into Republic space? What are we going to do? Without engines, we’re sitting ducks out here.”

 

“We don’t have much of a choice but to fight them off.”

 

Obi-wan stared at the comlink in his hand incredulously. _Only he would have gotten stuck with a renegade for a Master. He couldn’t be serious… Right?_ “Fight!? Master, this is a transport, it doesn’t even have any ion cannons. How do you propose to fight them off?”

 

Qui-gon replied quickly. “We’re going to have to let them board the ship. Hopefully, between us and the crew we can overpower them. Meet me at the airlock.”

 

_Nothing is ever easy,_ he thought.


	2. Attack on the Ta'veren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Language warning for this chapter, and probably for the next few. It's not much, but if anyone is sensitive to that kind of thing, be warned. 
> 
> Also... Is it commed? Comm'd? Conned? I have no clue, and Google doth withhold from me. So we're going with the first one... because I said so... Just kidding (kind of?). If you know the answer to this one, feel free to tell me in the comments. I won't sleep very well until I have it figured out.

**Chapter 2:**

**Attack on the _Ta’veren_**

Qui-gon and the Captain, a dark skinned human female whose height could rival that of the man next to her, were huddled together near the airlock controls when Obi-wan rounded the corner. The two were in the middle of a tense conversation, both intermittently nodding and listening to the other in rapt attention.

Trying to catch his breath from his run across the ship, Obi-wan deftly weaved through a throng of anxious and jittery crew members towards them.

“There you are, Padawan.” Qui-gon said, glancing over at him. He gestured at the Captain. “This is Captain Mora. Captain, my apprentice, Obi-wan Kenobi.”

Obi-wan gave her a polite bow and then looked up at his master. “What’s going on?”

Captain Mora answered. “Something – probably these bastards – pulled the ship out of hyperspace. They were sitting here waiting for us when we came out. A few minutes later another ship entered real space right between our ass cheeks and disabled the engines before we even had a chance to sneeze,” she said, irritated.

“They knew we were coming?” he asked. “How?”

Qui-gon opened his mouth to speak, but Mora cut him off. “I know my crew, Master Jedi,” she said, gruffly. “None of them would have done something like this. They may look rough, but they’re a dependable bunch.”

Qui-gon sighed and flashed the woman an irritated look. Obi-wan got the sense that they had been arguing about this since he’d commed. “I mean no disrespect to you or your crew, Captain,” he placated. “I’m merely looking at the situation from all angles. It is far more likely that that someone sabotaged the hyperdrive from inside the ship.” She scowled at him, and pulled her thick mane of back hair into a tight ponytail with a spare elastic.

“If the saboteur is still on the ship, it could cause problems, Master,” Obi-wan added warily.

“Indeed,” Qui-gon replied.

Mora huffed, screwed up her face, and folded her arms across her chest.  Her discontent was palpable in the Force. “What makes you so sure it’s a saboteur, and not just a pirate raid?”

His Master gave him a look, prompting him to answer. Obi-wan chewed at the inside of his cheek, mulling the question over in his head before he answered her.

“Well,” he began slowly. “You said it yourself, Captain - they were waiting for us. It’s statistically unlikely that the ship had an engineering malfunction and just so happened to spit us out in a sector that was occupied by pirates. Especially this far into the core – don’t they usually stick to the outer boundaries of Republic space?” He looked up at his Master for confirmation. The older man nodded.

“They easily could have just camped out on the space lane and waited for us fly by,” the Captain argued. “There’s tractor beams out there that can pull a ship out of hyperspace. I’ve seen it.”

Qui-gon shook his head. “Not possible. From what I saw of the ship, there wasn’t a tractor beam mounted anywhere on the hull. The only pirate ships out there with tractor beams built in are associated with the Hutt clans – and they never come out this far.”

“Besides,” Obi-wan chimed in, “in order to pull us out of hyperspace, and not anyone else, they would have to have known our exact trajectory. And in order to do that, they had to know all of the details of our departure, right down to the second we entered hyperspace. Even then, those calculations would be extremely difficult to pull off. But if someone inside the ship sent them our trajectory, it would just be a matter of waiting.”

Mora pinched the bridge of her nose. “I get what you’re saying, but I still don’t think it was one of my crew.”

The comm embedded in her wrist gauntlet beeped. “Mora,” she snapped. “What is it?” Obi-wan watched as she stepped away from them.

He looked up once again at his master. The Jedi was scrutinizing the clumps of men hovering in the hallway, all fingering the blasters at their hips anxiously. A few moved around, stacking crates and creating defensive positions, but the majority stayed still, staring intently at the airlock at the end of the hallway. A realization hit him. As hard as these crew members looked, hardly any of them acted as if they’d ever seen combat before.

“How do we plan to fight them off, Master?”

Qui-gon gestured at the hallway they were standing, and then at a smaller, intersecting one half way between them and the airlock, before returning his hand to scratch his beard. “I was thinking a standard hammer-and-anvil would be best… Draw them down the main hall, and then come at them from the sides at the junction.”

“You don’t think they’ll see through something that simple?”

Qui-gon gave him a crooked grin and placed his hand on his shoulder. “People are stupid, Obi-wan. They’ll see what it is they _wish_ to see, either because they want something to be true, or they fear that it is. There’s no logical explanation why they would attack an empty ship coming from Coruscant unless they knew of our mission. Then it would stand that they know there are Jedi on board…

“Our reputation proceeds us; people fear Jedi, especially criminals. They’ll be expecting an elaborate plan, so an elaborate plan is what they’ll see. Don’t _underestimate_ them, padawan. But don’t overestimate them either.”

Obi-wan smirked, despite the situation. “Something tells me the Crèche Masters wouldn’t be a fan of that particular lesson, Master.”

His master chortled. “Master Dooku taught me that.” He paused. “So, no… They definitely would not have approved. They didn’t approve of most of his ‘lessons.’”

Captain Mora interrupted them. “That was my head engineer, Guyus. He says the flyby didn’t do as much damage as we had thought. He thinks that with some help we can blast out of here in 30-40 minutes.”

“How long until they board the ship?” Obi-wan asked.

She shrugged. “Any moment now. We’ll have to hold them off until then.” Her gaze floated to the airlock. They stood in silence for a moment.

 “Obi-wan,” Qui-gon said quietly, “go see what you can do to help get the ship up and running again…”

Obi-wan’s head snapped up at the older man. “What? But don’t you need me here? Besides, I’m terrible at mechanics, Master.”

The older man quirked an eyebrow at him. “If there is a saboteur on the ship, they’ll try to make sure the engines stay offline. And your presence – or lack thereof - will provide some distraction for our guests.”

Obi-wan frowned. “I suppose that makes sense. But still, I-“

“Obi-wan,” his Master said gently. He might have spoken softly, but the command in his voice was clear. “Go.”

“Yes, Master. If you say so.”

“I do.”

Obi-wan bowed respectfully. “Yes, Master.”

"Obi-wan," Qui-gon called out when he was at the other end of the hallway. Obi-wan turned. "May the Force be with you."

"And with you, Master."

_____________

            Obi-wan climbed through the hatch into the engine room. The room was cramped and grimy, and smelled of synthetic oil and fuel. Master Chaan, his ship engineering teacher as a youngling in the crèche, would have been horrified. _A clean engine room is a happy engine room, little ones. Dirtiness is a sign of laziness, and lack of attention to detail._

            “Guyus?” he called out. “I’m Padawan Kenobi. I’ve been sent to help with the engines.”

            A brown, scaly head popped out of a gap in the flooring grates, straight ahead. “About kriffin’ time,” the Weequayan cursed. He assumed this must be Guyus, the engineer. “Why’d they send a Jedi? Shouldn’t you be helping keep them pirates from climbing up my asshole?” he snapped.

            Obi-wan stepped over to the man and knelt down to look into the pit. He noted that the hole was an access area for some of the ship’s mechanical components. “My master will be doing that,” he said diplomatically. “How can I help?

            Guyus grunted before climbing down to the bottom of the pit. “Hand me a hydrospanner, boy. Not enough room down here for the both of us.” Obi-wan raised an eyebrow, but did as he was bid and reached down into the hole to hand it to him.

As he pulled his upper body out of the pit, a boot came into his peripheral vision. He tensed. Someone was standing behind him. _This must be our saboteur…_ he thought. Casually, he reached over and wrapped his fingers around another one of the hydrospanners sitting on the floor. The Force wavered around him – a warning.

With a speed humanly impossible without the aid of the Force, Obi-wan swung the hydrospanner back and up, and caught his assailant in the groan. The figure yelped loudly and staggered back.

He took the opportunity to jump up and turn around to face his would be attacker. He called his lightsaber to his hands as he did and ignited it.

The dark haired man, human, was bent over grabbing at his crotch in pain. A blaster lay by his feet. “You’ll pay for that, you cunt,” he panted angrily.  

Obi-wan focused his mind and held out his hand to direct the blaster out of the man’s reach.

            A hand suddenly wrapped around his ankle and yanked hard. _Guyus!_ Caught off balance without enough time to react, he fell face first into the grates. His lightsaber bounced out of his hands when he hit the floor and he smacked his chin against the metal of the grate. Before he even had a chance to lift his neck, something thin and metal smashed against the back of his head.

            Unconsciousness sped up to meet him.

 

           


	3. Anakin Skywalker

**Chapter 3:**

**Anakin Skywalker**

 

            He definitely had a concussion.

            _Severe headache, loss of consciousness, nausea_. He cracked an eye open, before shutting it again. _Sensitivity to light_ …

            Obi-wan let himself lay there for a few minutes, and tried to recollect his mental faculties before attempting to reopen his eyes. He groaned into the cold metal floor underneath him and brought his hand up to rub the sore spot on the back of his head.

            Next to him, he heard a fearful intake of breath and a sharp shuffling sound as someone quickly backed away.

            He tensed. He wasn’t alone. Gently as he could, he lifted his headand turned it towards the origin of the noise.

            A little boy, dressed in a filthy tunic, was pressed into the corner of the small, windowless room, watching him fearfully. Obi-wan let himself relax. _Just a kid,_ he thought. _And a small one at that._

            “Hello there,” he mumbled, stretching his legs out on the floor.

            The boy tried to scoot further back into the wall, but could gain no purchase. Realizing he was cornered, the boy let out a quiet whimper.

            “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you,” Obi-wan said kindly. He sat up gingerly. “I’m a Jedi.”

            The boy didn’t respond, just continued to watch him, warily.

            Obi-wan’s stomach rolled uncertainly as he lifted his arm to check the back of his head for blood. Finding nothing, he let his arm fall back down. “My name is Obi-wan. What’s yours?”

            The boy continued to watch him. It was unnerving. Obi-wan mentally berated himself for being made uncomfortable by a toddler. At least what he thought was a toddler – the boy was very small. He didn’t have a lot of experience with little kids. Whenever he helped in the crèche it was always with the older children.

            He gave the kid a look over. If he was on the pirates’ ship – which seemed the most logical assumption based on the events that had led to him being smashed in the back of the head with a hydrospanner – the boy in front of him was probably a slave. _Oh great. I’m on a slave ship…_ He couldn’t think of anyother reason a kid as young as this one would be the ship. And it would account for how dirty he was. His pale skin looked covered in dirt and sand, both of which blended into his tunic and trousers. Even his hair was caked in sand. The only thing that really stood out were his eyes – bright blue, and sharp. The kid was smarter than he probably let on.

            Deciding to change tactics, he reached down to his belt (which he was surprised they’d kept on him, even if they had confiscated his lightsaber) and plucked off a silver food capsule.

            He held it out to the boy. “Are you hungry?” The blue eyes watching him narrowed in a combination of confusion and suspicion. Obi-wan wiggled the silver tube in between his fingers. “You look hungry. Here. It’s food – it’s not great, but it’s food.”

            The boy assessed the situation, glancing back and forth between the shiny food capsule and the strange man attached to it. Very slowly, he unfolded himself and leaned forward. Pausing half way, to make sure Obi-wan gave no indication of moving, the boy grabbed the food capsule out of his hand, and quickly scrambled back into his corner.

            Obi-wan watched for a moment as the kid started frantically unscrewing the capsule before resting his pounding head on the cool metal wall behind him and closing his eyes. If he really was on the pirates’ ship, then he was pretty well screwed, he decided. With no information to go on, his master would be hard pressed to find him. He fingered the heavy collar around his neck. Step one of getting off this ship would getting rid of the Force-suppression collar. If Master Qui-gon was close enough, maybe he could reach out to with their bond…

            “Thank you.”

            Obi-wan opened his eyes again and looked over at the boy. “You’re welcome,” he replied, surprised at the speed in which the kid had eaten the food capsule. Although he didn’t know why he was surprised. The kid looked half-starved.

            “I’m Anakin,” the boy mumbled after a few moments.

            Obi-wan opened his eyes again and gave the boy a friendly smile. “Hello, Anakin… Do you know where we are?”

            Anakin shrugged and licked protein powder off his fingers. “On a ship. We’re going to Nar Shadaa.”

            “Nar Shadaa?”

            Anakin shrugged again. “That’s what the others said.”

            “There’s others on this ship?”

            The boy nodded. “I was in there, in the hold with the other slaves. Then they put me in here. It was warmer in there…” As if on que, Anakin shivered and brought his knees to his chest.

            Obi-wan frowned. “Why did they put you in here?” Anakin didn’t respond, just sniffed. Deciding to let it drop, Obi-wan rearranged his legs into the Lotus position. Even if he didn’t have access to the Force, meditation would help him clear his mind. A question popped into his head before he could settle in.

            “Anakin? Where are your parents? Are they in the hold with the others?”

            The boy’s lip quivered violently, before burying his face in his knees. “I don wanna talk about it,” he said into his legs.


End file.
